AN: Okay so this took a long time to write, sorry I was preoccupied with homework, not to mention I'm not a very good writer anyway and I had writer's block! But it's here now and hopefully it gives you some answers. No smut yet, and it's mostly a filler chapter, but it's necessary to the story! Don't worry, there'll be dirty shit coming up in a little bit! So without further adieu, enjoy!

DRACO:

Draco Malfoy swept a hand through his hair, tousling it into baby like waves. Damn that stupid girl. She had said he would just 'have to find out' what she wanted from him before he could get the book. The weasel thought that it was a diary. That fact alone showed that she hadn't read it yet. That, at least, was a relief.

The book was, in truth, a collection of his thoughts. But it was not a diary. Draco Malfoy did not keep any ordinary journal. It held codes. Hexes. Enchantments. Dark magic. Along with his orders from the Dark Lord. In fact, it worked in much the same way as Tom Riddle's diary had, before Potter destroyed it. No wonder Weasley had wanted it. If the annoying little red head had the audacity to read it…

He ran a hand through his hair again, a bad habit he'd picked up since the beginning of his 6th year. Everyone was counting on him to carry out the Dark Lord's command. He had entrusted Draco. And now he had lost the journal. No. She had stolen it. To say that Weaselbee vexed him was a sorry understatement.

He looked out the window of his transfiguration class, wondering where she was. And where his book was. Why did she want it anyway? And how did she get it? No doubt Potter was the one who put her up to it. With his self-righteous ways. He was more contemptuous than Draco himself. But no matter. He would get his book if it was the last thing he did.

He sat through charms, listening to McGonagall go on about anamagi before turning herself into a cat, then dismissing the class. Draco picked up his books and sauntered out in search of his friend Blaise, who exited shortly after him.

"Oi," he said in his indifferent drawl. "I need your help mate."

Blaise turned, a smirk on his face. "Is this about that bloody diary again?"

"Yes in fact, it is. And don't look so bloody smug about it. I need your help getting it back from Weasley. And I also need you to help me get information. I reckon she won't give up why she's got it easily." They arrived at the porthole, and Draco paused.

"How do you think she got it?"

"I have no idea. But I need it back, or else she might read it and run her stupid mouth to Dumbledore."

"And how do plan to get it back?"

"I don't know, I suppose I'll just have to make her…" a look of realization crossed over his face.

"What is it?"

"Just come with me, and hurry."

As they down the hall, Draco took out a small flask before darting around a corner, Blaise at his heels.

They arrived outside the potions class, currently holding a group of first years, who were looking disastrously disheveled. One in particular was doing so poorly that the concoction in his cauldron had exploded, covering him with soot. It reminded Draco faintly of Seamus Finnegan. Both Draco and Blaise laughed in earnest, causing everyone to look their way. Snape raised an eyebrow before turning back to his class. "As I was saying," he did not miss the chance to eye the two boys cumbersomely. "We will discuss the importance of wolfsbane another time. Your homework will include an entire roll of parchment including the definition of a bezoar and its many uses. Dismissed."

Draco watched them all leave before running into the class over to Snape. He had always been Snape's favorite. And favoritism had its uses. "Professor, I was wondering if I might have a word?"

Severus Snape looked him over, his trademark sneer lessening a bit. "Yes Mister Malfoy, is there something that you need help with?" he asked, seemingly detached. That suited Draco just fine. If anyone suspected him of getting special treatment, (which he was), it could turn ugly quickly. So they played coy with each other, as not to seem too close.

"Well, you see, there is a little something that Draco and I need from your stores," Blaise said smoothly, also a favorite. "But I'm afraid it's not a very, ahem, common substance." Blaise knew the plan, having been let in on Draco's idea on their way to the dungeons.

"Very well, Mister Zabini. If the two of you would follow me to my office." They trooped in one after the other, Snape shutting the door tightly behind them before turning. "Is something the matter?" he asked, searching their eyes.

"No Sir. We'll just be needing some lace wing flies." Draco started cautiously. "As well as fluxweed, knotgrass, powdered horn of a Bicorn if you have it."

Snape looked at him severely. "I would be a fool to not know that you two are making polyjuice potion, and as your Head of House I am inclined to ask why."

Draco squinted at his professor angrily. Since when in the bloody hell is it his business what I want to do in my spare time? "I'm sorry Professor. That information's classified. But it's for the Dark Lord, and I need you to trust me."

Snape looked thoughtfully at the small, thread-like scars on his right hand, proof that he had made an unbreakable vow. "I do not wish to play the father part of this with you Draco, howev—"

"Then don't Snape. I don't need a father and I don't need you telling me how to carry out my mission for the Dark Lord. I can take care of myself." he made a move to leave, but Snape grasped his shoulder.

"I made the vow." Snape's voice was so low that Blaise barely heard it.

Draco wrenched away. "Fine," he said, realizing that he did, in fact, need Severus. "We need information from a few Gryffindors, and they won't give it up if we went as is."

The brief explanation seemed good enough for Snape, and he went to work getting all of the ingredients. "I hope you know what you're doing." He said.

"We do. Come on Blaise."

The two Slytherin boys then went to their dormitory, making sure to stay clear of any prying eyes. It's nearly time for dinner, Draco thought, looking at the clock. While hurrying back to the common room, Blaise and Draco amused themselves with talk of which Gryffindor boy they would impersonate, (for even though they thought being able to see the Gryffindor girls naked would be fun, they had decided against it for the sole purpose of not actually wanting breasts).They talked of what color each of the potions would turn. Ron's would obviously be maroon, he had so much of it. Seamus Finnegan would be green or turquoise, Dean Thomas would perhaps be orange, and Neville would be an unpleasant color, puce or something like it.

After stashing the various supplies in a loose floorboard in the dorm, Blaise and Draco traveled down to the Great Hall, spying the littlest Weasley. She was laughing, sitting between Colin Creepy and Snivel Longbottom. God, he wanted to pin her to a wall and demand she give him his journal. Or just pin her to a wall and kiss her. What the hell? Where did that come from? He realized he should probably go somewhere dark sometime later that night and… 'Take care' of himself. But there was time for that later.

Right now he needed to get her alone. He waited patiently until dessert had been served, then watched Ginny as her friends left, one by one. She was almost alone not long after that, only a few seventh years at the far end of the table. She seemed to be in deep thought, and was no longer even looking at her food. Slowly, she raised her eyes, until through lowered lashes she spied Draco. Their eyes locked, and for the smallest of instants he thought he saw a flicker in her warm chocolate eyes. Was it fear? Perhaps. In any case, she dropped her gaze quickly and gathered up her belongings. Without one look back, she shuffled from the Great hall.

And Draco followed her.